


you're holding me (like water in your hands)

by drqco



Category: Chess - Rice/Ulvaeus/Andersson
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 05:34:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30067434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drqco/pseuds/drqco
Summary: He tries to move and shut his eyes—willing his brain to shut off and get comfortable. But Anatoly starts moving too—he was a light sleeper. It’s pathetic, he just needed to sleep—needed it to shut off and—“Freddie?” Anatoly says quietly, and Freddie turns his back to him, ashamed for waking him up because he can’t even get his dumbass brain to shut up. “Go to sleep, Tolya. Sorry for waking you,” he gets out, curling up on his side. The alarm clock next to him blinks 3:32.“Can’t sleep?” Anatoly asks. Freddie feels him press to his side, his beard tickles his neck, he feels Anatoly press his face against his hair—peppering kisses there. It’s soft and warm and comforting, yet his mind betrays him. “No, no—I can’t,” he admits, his hand traveling to Anatoly’s, which was resting upon his chest.And the same thought plagues him—this is fucking pathetic.
Relationships: Anatoly Sergievsky/Frederick Trumper
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	you're holding me (like water in your hands)

**Author's Note:**

> YES THIS SOUNDS LIKE THE OTHER FIC I I WROTE BUT THEY R DIFFERENT PROMISE
> 
> anyway this fic was birthed after talking 2 my friend on twt and like. getting my friends into chess so this is for. !! them !! ily sonny and mari !!
> 
> hope u like PLS WRITE ME MORE FREDDIE/ANATOLY

Freddie’s mind is running a mile a minute. 

It’s already three A.M. for fuck’s sake—and his brain still hasn’t settled down. It's going on and on about Anatoly—what if the man hates him? What if he’s just pitying him? And, God—what if Freddie messes things up so badly he’ll leave? If there’s anything Freddie’s a natural at, it’s being fuck-up. But he’s been trying so hard, but the fear and paranoia consumes him. 

So he’s here, lying on his back and facing the ceiling, Anatoly a hair breadth’s away. His arm is curled over his stomach, his face pressed into him, snoring softly. Fast asleep—well—he should be, he had work in the morning and he needed all the rest he could get. And Freddie’s downed melatonin (No sleeping pills. He doesn’t want to risk taking those.), yet to no avail. Wide awake, on the verge of tears, uncomfortable in his own skin. 

He tries to move and shut his eyes—willing his brain to shut off and get comfortable. But Anatoly starts moving too—he was a light sleeper. It’s pathetic, he just needed to sleep—needed it to shut off and— 

“Freddie?” Anatoly says quietly, and Freddie turns his back to him, ashamed for waking him up because he can’t even get his dumbass brain to shut up. “Go to sleep, Tolya. Sorry for waking you,” he gets out, curling up on his side. The alarm clock next to him blinks 3:32 a.m. 

“Can’t sleep?” Anatoly asks. Freddie feels him press to his side, his beard tickles his neck, he feels Anatoly press his face against his hair—peppering kisses there. It’s soft and warm and comforting, yet his mind betrays him. “No, no—I can’t,” he admits, his hand traveling to Anatoly’s, which was resting upon his chest. 

And the same thought plagues him—this is fucking pathetic. 

“Okay,” Anatoly mutters, sitting up to pull the comforter closer around them. “Do you know what you need?” he asks. Freddie pauses. 

“I—just go back to sleep, Tolya. Work in the morning and everything.” 

“Not until you’re sleeping with me, hm.” 

Goddamnit. 

Why did Anatoly have to be so tender, so gentle with him? How is he patient, willing to stay up with him even though he has work? There is no version of Freddie that Anatoly could deserve. His heart twists and his stomach does flips—fuck. “Whatever your mind is telling you, Freddie, it’s not true. I’m not here because I pity you, I’m here because I love you and care for you, Freddie. Every bit,” he says sleepily, tightening his grip around Freddie. 

Freddie feels relief—perhaps he just needed that little bit of reassurance for his brain to finally shut down and let him go. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes. 

“How do you always know what to say?” he says quietly—into the darkness. He feels Anatoly huff our a few puffs of air, saying, “You forget, солнышко, I know you better than I know myself.” 

Perhaps he does. 

Freddie snuggles closer, allowing himself the peace and tranquility. “Let’s play,” Anatoly yawns behind him, sneaking a kiss to his neck. This is what Freddie needed. The reassurance, the familiarity, the warmth—and back then, Freddie would’ve never anticipated having this, nor wanting it. But now, he’d rather experience what he did 100 times over and meet Anatoly than never meet him at all. 

“Pawn to D4,” Anatoly sighs, and the warmth feels much more enticing. 

He closes his eyes and plays their game.


End file.
